


Midwinter

by Sineala



Category: The Eagle | The Eagle of the Ninth (2011)
Genre: Community: kink_bingo, M/M, Rituals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-28
Updated: 2013-10-28
Packaged: 2017-12-30 17:42:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1021531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sineala/pseuds/Sineala
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marcus shares with Esca some of the more private aspects of the mystery cult. (Or: This one time, at Mithras Camp...)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Midwinter

**Author's Note:**

> For Kink Bingo 2013, the square "ritual." I would also like to disclaim that I am pretty sure Mithras worship never actually involved this; I was inspired by a WIP by Carmarthen and Piscaria.

"I am sorry to be your only companion for this evening," Esca says, sounding honestly apologetic, as they sweep out the triclinium and leave the cups in the kitchen. 

Saturnalia ended two days ago, but Marcus' uncle has gone north to see his friend the legate, for the end of the holiday, and he took all the slaves with him, leaving them alone in the villa. If it bothers Esca to perform the same duties he once undertook as a slave -- well, he has not said. There have been no words of complaint. Except for this.

"What do you mean?"

Esca regards him silently for a long while, and then says, as if the answer ought to have been obvious, "Is it not a day to worship Mithras? I only thought that you must miss it, since Calleva has no Mithraeum that I know of."

"It is Mithras' birthday," Marcus admits, and he tries to still his face, to think not at all about the rituals, to give nothing away.

He should know by now that he can hide nothing from Esca.

"Oh, so you are sad?" Esca steps closer and lifts a finger to Marcus' chin, pulling his head down to examine his face, this way and that, before he presses a kiss to Marcus' cheek. "I had an idea about that."

He cannot quite bring himself to tell Esca that it is not entirely sadness. "Do you?"

Esca smiles. "I am not asking you to tell me all the mysteries, but--" he shrugs a little, presenting his idea with a kind of humility-- "I thought if you could tell me a bit about what is done, if it is not all secret, I could... help."

He can't explain it to Esca. He really can't. He is going to try anyway, may all the gods help him.

"Well," he temporizes, "of the parts that are not secret, I think it will be hard to help more than you already have. There was feasting, always, and we did just eat--"

Esca gives an exaggerated wince. "There has been feasting for days. I don't think I could eat anything else."

"There are other things that often happened," Marcus adds, and he can feel his face heating up, damn him, as his mouth stretches into an embarrassed smile. "Not-- not secret. Just, perhaps, distasteful to some."

Looking at him, Esca starts to chuckle. "Is it-- really? No! Really?"

"Really," Marcus says, and he doesn't think he can stop smiling, although it isn't exactly a happy smile.

"You are sure it was not a Bacchanalia?" Esca is still chuckling. "Or perhaps -- oh, what is his name, the one with the huge cock?" He sketches out an illustrative shape at his groin, with both hands; the god of his imaginings is excessively well-endowed.

"I would know if it were Priapus." Marcus starts laughing, too. "Give me some credit!"

Esca smirks, and his eyes are much darker. "Oh," he says, in a low voice, "I will give you something else, Marcus."

Marcus had always thought of Esca as a subtle man, given to silences, communicating this or that by a thoughtful stare, by the raise of an eyebrow. And it is true that Esca is thus, in all respects except one: his desires. As Marcus found out shortly after the time he first worked up the nerve to kiss him, Esca when moved by lust is loud, lewd, raucous, filthy-mouthed, cruder than a century of drunken soldiers on leave at Baiae.

Marcus likes it rather a lot.

He is therefore not surprised when Esca, still smirking, grabs Marcus' hand and pulls it to himself, rubbing Marcus' hand over his growing erection. Marcus pretends to be a little exasperated, of course he does; it is another thing they do.

"What," Marcus asks, scandalized and not quite sure how much of it is a pretense, "you want me to touch you, here?"

Esca pushes his hips, shoving against Marcus' hand. "What, here? Yes."

"No," Marcus clarifies. "Here, in the dining room."

They are alone, so perhaps the idea is not as outrageous as it first sounded. It is, in fact, seeming like an increasingly better idea.

Esca's breath is hoarse panting. "That as well," he adds. "Perhaps, if you tell me what else you did, so that we may reenact this as closely as possible--"

Marcus still can't say it, so instead he drops to his knees on the mosaic floor and looks up, hands still at the ties of Esca's braccae, his eyes widened in a silent question.

Luckily Esca can do the talking for everyone. "Oh, excellent idea," he says, looking down and smiling. "You're good at that. You and your cocksucking mouth." The insult has so much love in it that Marcus cannot be offended. Besides, he likes to hear Esca talk.

He mouths at the heavy wool of Esca's braccae, scratching his face, but it is worth it when Esca pushes up greedily against his face, taking no more than Marcus can give.

"Did they call you that too?"

Marcus lifts his head. "Sometimes. They said a lot of things," he breathes, somewhere against Esca's hip.

"Oh?" The noise is, of course, one of licentious interest.

It is as if a dam has burst, a shield-wall has broken, and now it is all right to think of these things he has tried to put behind him, the men in the shadows with their masks, how he honored the god, through them, with his body, with his body, how much he loved it--

And then he's fumbling at his own braccae, and oh, he is so hard, half in the past, half in the present, and Esca is staring down at him and grinning, enthralled, watching Marcus' hand strip his cock. He doesn't want to come yet, but he feels it rising within him, his body tense with need, and he's gasping, moaing--

"That good?" Esca murmurs. "Go on, go on. Think about it."

Esca's undoing his own braccae now, palming at himself, and Marcus has to shut his eyes because, oh, he's going to come if he watches this, if he has to see Esca stroke himself, Esca who will of course narrate all his fantasies in lurid detail.

"Not yet," Marcus moans. "In my mouth-- just a little-- before I-- please."

"You ask so well," Esca says, and Marcus feels the familiar hot touch against his lips and opens his mouth for Esca's cock.

It's sloppy, and he's focusing more on himself than Esca, chasing the soaring pleasure within him, but Esca doesn't seem to mind.

"Did they do this?" Esca wonders, groaning out the question. "Did you beg for their great cocks? Did they all do this to you? Perhaps they took turns. Or, oh, more than one?" He thrusts deeply, roughly into Marcus' mouth and Marcus loves it. "Did they have you two at once? One at each end? Or did they put you between them, fucking and being fucked? Did they -- oh, yes, like that -- did they do what I'm about to?"

Esca's voice is rough, broken, and all at once he pushes Marcus back. Marcus knows not to open his eyes, and Esca groans and spends himself on Marcus' face, as he so enjoys, just as Marcus, trembling, shaking, thrusts into his own fist once, twice, and he follows him into bliss.

After some time he opens his eyes, sits back on his heels, and grins up at Esca, who looks unsteadily back at him, smiling, sated, his chest heaving.

He considers telling Esca that it is all a secret.

"Actually," Marcus offers, "mostly they came in my mouth."

"Oh." Esca seems to ponder this. "In that case," he adds, cheerfully, "I am happy to do it again. For the sake of the ritual, of course."

"Of course," Marcus agrees. 

He wraps his arms around Esca's hips, leans his head against Esca's thigh, and smiles and smiles. The god would welcome even this, he thinks, and tomorrow the sun will rise, the day will grow longer. They have brought the light. It is well.


End file.
